Zoo Review: Detroit Zoo

Even since it's opening in 1928, the Detroit Zoo has been a trendsetter and an innovator.  It was the first zoo in America that was designed, planned, and built in accordance with Carl Hagenbeck's barless zoo habitats.  (The process was still in its rough stages at the time - during the zoo's opening ceremonies, a polar bear briefly escaped its enclosure and confronted Detroit's amused mayor).  More recently, Detroit made history again, in a more controversial manner, when it became the first US zoo to announce that it would no longer house elephants based on ethical grounds.  This decision has led to increased pressure from animal right's groups on other zoos that house elephants, which in turn has led some zookeepers to feel a certain hostility towards Detroit and its Director, Ron Kagan.

Upon entering the zoo, the first exhibit that most visitors will encounter is the Polk Penguin Conservation Center.  Upon looking at it from the outside, I was decidedly unimpressed - it was a giant white monstrosity that I suppose was built to resemble icebergs.  The inside was considerably better - a massive habitat for several species of Antarctic penguins, complete with deep pools for swimming, accessible to visitors via towering windows and underwater tunnels.  The exhibit is the largest penguin facility in the country.  The exhibit tells the story of Ernest Shackleton and his exploration of the Antarctic, including a view of Antarctic marine life (on computer screens) through the portholes of a ship.

Among zoo professionals, one of the most famous exhibits at Detroit is the National Amphibians Conservation Center, located on the edge of a Michigan lagoon, patrolled by trumpeter swans.  Inside, a series of beautiful displays feature some of the most spectacular amphibian species.  Among them are Panamanian golden frogs, Puerto Rican crested toads, golden mantellas, and mountain chicken frogs, along with African lungfish.  The stars of the building are also building's largest occupants - Japanese giant salamanders, which inhabit a large, stream-like habitat.  While I was visiting, an even larger habitat for these giant amphibians was under construction.

In many zoos, reptiles and amphibians share a building.  In Detroit, reptiles occupy a separate devoted facility, the Holden Reptile Conservation Center, on the opposite side of the lagoon.  An impressive collection is found among the darkened corridors, including king cobras, matamatas, and water monitors.  In the largest enclosure, Siamese crocodiles bask by the shores of their pool.

Compared to the extensive reptile and amphibian collections, the bird collection at Detroit is rather sparse.  Apart from the penguins, most of the birds are found in a walk-through aviary, which shares a building with a butterfly gallery and art gallery.

Penguins and amphibians aside, the star attraction of the Detroit Zoo is the Arctic Ring of Life, a stellar habitat for polar bears.  Bears occupy two spacious yards - one a traditional rocky grotto, the other a sprawling grassy tundra.  The bears can be seen through underwater tunnels also, swimming above the heads of zoo visitors.  Harbor and grey seals seem to share the waterways with the bears, making one of the most unique predator-prey exhibits I've ever seen.

More American animals are seen in a series of paddocks.  Bison, guanaco, grey wolves,bald eagles, and prairie dogs are some of the more common zoo animals found here.  There are also some unique species found here.  Giant anteaters plod through a yard filled with tall grasses.  Bush dogs splash in and out of their pool.  In my favorite enclosure, wolverines romp through a wooded habitat, one larger than I've seen many zoos give their bears.  Nearby, grizzly bears clamber over the artificial rockwork of their habitat, one of the zoo's original enclosures.  Elsewhere in the zoo are an exhibit of beaver, as well as the best North American river otter exhibit I've ever encountered.  The otters have a beautiful outdoor enclosure, while visitors view them from inside a log cabin, where they view the otters through underwater viewing windows.

When the elephants left for their "sanctuary", their enclosure became the habitat of white rhinoceroses.   Other African animals include giraffes, warthogs, lions, zebras, and antelope.  Gorillas and chimpanzees are found in enormous exhibits filled with rolling hills and tall climbing structures.  During the inclement Michigan winters, the apes have access to indoor enclosures, considerable less aesthetically pleasing than the outdoor habitats, but still large and highly enriched.  While the sight of the chimpanzees chasing each other across their enormous habitats is very appealing for visitors, the exhibit which most impressed me was the aardvark habitat.  It was easily the biggest exhibit I've seen for this species, lushly planted and handsomely arranged.  I remember looking at it and thinking, "There's no way that anyone ever sees an aardvark in here..." and just then, an aardvark emerged from one burrow and strolled placidly across the enclosure before disappearing into a second.

There is also a small Asian forest area, consisting of Amur tigers, red pandas, and a paddock of Asian deer and camels.

While I don't agree or approve of some other "progressive" elements of Detroit Zoo's policy, it was hard not to impressed.  There are many species that I saw here in the best enclosures I've ever seen for them - aardvark, wolverine, otter, and chimpanzee, among them. The zoo's commitment to conservation is exemplary - they have excellent programs with gorillas in Africa, dart frogs in Peru, and martens in Michigan, among other species.  They've been very active in animal rescues - many of the animals in the zoo have plaques describing how they were rescued, either as injured animals or from irresponsible/illegal pet owners.  They've also become increasingly involved in native species - just this month, the zoo announced their plans to open a new education center focused on native wildlife in Macomb County.

I could definitely see myself becoming a fan of Detroit Zoo - I just sometimes wish that their leadership didn't seem to occasionally toss other facilities under the bus, as it seems to do from time to time.

Detroit Zoo

The Story of a Species

Incorporating history, culture, art, and, yes, even religion into a zoo display is something that can make for an exciting, educational visitor experience.  It must be done, however, in a manner that is respectful and sensitive to the cultures involved.  Ideally, the best way to do so would be to design and implement these displays with the cooperation and guidance of people for the cultures in question, both to promote accuracy and to ensure that dignity of the culture is maintained.

Cultural displays in a zoo exhibit shouldn't be roughly shoe-horned in.  It should feel organic, like it belongs there.  They should be planned for inclusion from the beginning.

One way to do this is to plan exhibits so that they tell a story - one that includes the entire story of the animal, including its place in culture and history.  Think of it as telling a story, with the animals alongside with educational displays to share history or culture.   For example, imagine telling the story of the Lewis and Clark Expedition - grizzly bears, bison, California condors, and other animals that Lewis and Clark met along their trek to the Pacific would be exhibited on this route.  Signage would include quotes from their journals detailing their encounters with those animals.  Displays would also exhibits of Native American cultures - teepees, canoes, etc - that were met along the journey and sharing stories of those cultures related to the animals that Lewis and Clark met.

Another example could be something along the lines of "Expedition: Okapi."  Zoo visitors could follow the trail of Sir Harry Johnston as he enters the Ituri Forest, searching for the mysterious animal that he has learned about from native sources.  As the trail progresses, visitors may encounter more animals from the Central African rainforests - antelope, primates, birds, reptiles - as well as cultural displays of Mbuti (pygmy) culture to discover of these people lived - and continue to live - in the heart of the Congo.  A series of clues along the trail, such as stimulated hoofprints going across the path, a piece of okapi skin on display in a "native village," and maybe even a (fake) pile of poop could build up anticipation for the final display - an encounter with a real, live okapi.

Featuring indigenous cultures in a zoo exhibit can be problematic, but it's possible to tell stories about history or culture without doing so.  A chimpanzee exhibit could be built around the theme of Jane Goodall and her pioneering field work among the apes.  The exhibit could be built to highlight behaviors that she herself observed in the wild (well, maybe not the war and cannibalism), such as tool use using a recreated termite mound.  Signage text could be lifted from her journals and logbooks.  The visitor portion of the exhibit could be a recreation of her campsite.  There aren't many Galapagos species available in zoos, but something similar could be done with Darwin and giant tortoises.

Displaying animals in such a manner does more than make for a more interesting visitor experience.  It helps place animals in their proper context - not in a vacuum, one display case or yard among many, but surrounded by a complicated web of life, that we humans are ourselves a part of.

A Cat's Tale

Next week, March 3rd is World Wildlife Day, with this year's focus being on the big cats.  To celebrate, Panthera is unveiling a special competition.  Participants are asked to write a story explaining what big cats mean to them.  Well, "story" might be stretching it a little bit.  They are actually limited to seven words.  Seven words isn't a lot of space to tell a story - it's more like a chance to convey a flash of emotion or inspiration, all of the things that big cats can mean to people.

 

I didn't find out about the competition until yesterday, and the deadline for submission is fast approaching.  Enter now while you still can, at the link below.  Tell Panthera - and the world - what big cats mean to you.

Tell Your Big Cat Tale

Palaces of Pachyderms

Like virtually all the great German zoos, the Berlin Zoo was almost completely destroyed by the bombing raids of World War II.  The zoo that stands in its place bears little resemblance to the one that stood their originally.  Among the many grandiose structures lost to the war was the Elephant House.  Built to resemble a massive Hindu temple, magnificently carved and lavishly decorated, it managed to do the seemingly impossible - it dwarfed the elephants that dwelt there.

A zoo or aquarium display is a wonderful opportunity to teach visitors about the role that a species plays in a culture.  In some cases, however, the culture becomes the exhibit.  Through much of the history of menageries and zoos, it was customary for captive wildlife to be displayed in buildings that were evocative of the lands from which they came from - Chinese pagodas for East Asian species, tribal huts for African ones, mosques for Middle Eastern species.  

The reasoning behind this system of display was two-fold.  For one thing, today zoos try to design their enclosures to mimic the nature habitat of their occupants.  Back then there was very little knowledge about how these animals lived in the wild, which left collection planners with little to go on.  Secondly, the early era of the modern zoo coincided with the age of imperialism.  Building habitats that invoked the foreign "East," the mysterious, colonized worlds of Africa and Asia, played into the Orientalist fantasies of the time.

In hindsight, it should have been obvious that these exhibits have the potential to be rather offensive.  Imagine how Muslim zoogoers would feel watching a camel defecate in a cheaply replicated mosque?  Or how African-American visitors would feel watching a troop of baboons running around a stimulated  stereotype of an African village?  With that in mind, it's just as well that we are leaving such exhibitions behind.

There are some exceptions, of course.  Perhaps the most common examples are temple ruins - at least half of the jaguar exhibits I've ever seen have featured the cats sprawling across the ruins of a Mayan temple.  About a third of the tiger exhibits I've seen likewise feature Asian temple ruins.  Perhaps because the cultures and religions they depict are no longer active and there is less risk of giving offense.  I've also seen a few examples of animals displayed in buildings taken from Euro-American culture; fur trapper cabins seem to be especially popular for northern animals such as wolverines and grey wolves.  That being said, "fur trapper" is an occupation, not a culture or religion.  Try displaying animals in say, a replica of the Sistine Chapel, and see how well that goes over.

Cultural sensitivity is important, but that's not the only good reason to move away from this style of zoo exhibit.  Asian elephants may live in a wide variety of habitats, but Hindu temples are not one of them.  There is no water feature in a Hindu temple, no trees, no dirt - beautiful architecture and murals, but nothing natural for an elephant.  Such a habitat is no habitat - just a pretty box to display one of nature's gems in. 

From the News: Giant Mexican Olmec head installed in the Henry Doorly Zoo's jungle

Giant Mexican Olmec head installed in the Henry Doorly Zoo's jungle

Today, Omaha's Henry Doorly Zoo welcomed a new resident to its world-famous Lied Jungle.  Unlike all of its neighbors, it's not an animal.  The 2000 pound statue, known as El Rey, is meant to celebrate Omaha's relationship with its sister city, Xalapa, Mexico.

With features like this, there is always the question of the role of the item in the collection.  Does it merely decorative?  Or does it serve an educational purpose?  At best, a feature can be an excellent learning device.  I saw an excellent Mayan sculpture in an art museum of a shaman in the act of transforming himself into a jaguar.  Such a sculpture, added as a compliment to a jaguar display, would serve to highlight the importance of jaguars in Meso-American culture. 

At worst case scenario, such a display could be culturally offensive.  If a display were seen to desecrate a religious setting, or seen as mocking a culture, that, of course, would be bad.

More often, a display would likely be like Omaha's El Rey - a piece of the landscape.

Species Fact Profile: Eastern Indigo Snake (Drymarchon couperi)

Eastern Indigo Snake

Drymarchon couperi (Holbrook, 1842)

Range: Southeastern United States
Habitat: Pine Forest, Prairie, Dunes, Wetlands
Diet: Small Mammals, Frogs, Birds, Eggs, Snakes
Social Grouping: Solitary
Reproduction: Polyandrous.  Males track females by their pheromone trails.  Breeding season is November through April; females lay 4-12 eggs in the burrows of of other animals, usually in May or June.  Young hatch 3 months later and are independent.  Snakes are mature at 3-4 years old.  Possible that they have the ability to store sperm and delay fertilization, but this theory has not been confirmed.
Lifespan: 20-25 Years
Conservation Status: IUCN Least Concern

• Uniform blue-black dorsal scales, very smooth and glossy.  Some individuals have red or tan coloration on the throat and chin..  Ventral scales have iridescent glean in bright light
• Longest (not largest overall) snake species native to the United States; longest individual measured 2.8 meters, more typically 1-2 meters.  Weigh up to 5 kilograms.  Males slightly larger than females.
• Scientific name Drymarchon translates to "Lord of the Forest", couperi honors American planter James Hamilton Couper, who brought the first type specimen
• Often use burrows dug by gopher tortoises or armadillos as burrows
• If multiple males converge on a female in breeding condition, they will engage in ritual combat, or "dancing", intertwining their bodies and attempting to pin each other to the ground.
• Due to their warm habitats, indigo snakes do not hibernate, but are inactive a few weeks out of the year.  They undergo seasonal migrations from drier habitats in the winters to wetter ones in the summers, traveling up to four miles
• Prey on venomous snakes, being immune to the venom of the species with which they share their range
• Have been observed beating their prey to death against rocks and other objects; do not utilize constriction
• What were previously believed to be separate subspecies on indigo snake have since been elevated to a total of four species, including D. couperi
• Major threat is habitat loss; sometimes gassed in burrows in attacks made on rattlesnakes.  Traditionally were popular in the pet trade, but this decreased after they were listed under the US Endangered Species Act in 1971

Zoo History: All the President's Pets

Donald Trump doesn't have a dog.  Among all of the other... different things about the 45th President of the United States, that seems to be the one that a lot of people obsess over.  No dog, no cat.  The Obamas had Bo, the Bushes had Barney, the Clintons had Socks, and poor Barron Trump doesn't even get a pet rock to play with.

For almost as long as there have been "First Families", there have been "First Pets."  In the earlier days of the Presidency, when the White House wasn't as much as a glorified working farm where the President pottered around absentmindedly, there would have been lots of animals on the place.  Just as adults had their horses, kids had ponies to trot around on grounds with.  There would have been goats and sheep and chickens, some of which would have been affectionately adopted by the First Tykes.

Of course, just like the regular citizenry, some American Presidents acquired pets of a slightly more exotic caliber.  Some obtained gifts of native wildlife from enthused local citizens as they toured about the country.  Such was the case for Teddy Roosevelt, who literally had someone throw a badger at him as he passed through a train station in Kansas.  Josiah, as the little beastie was named, took to running around the White House, nipping at the ankles of visitors.  To be fair, Roosevelt, having an extraordinary keen interest in nature, kept a wide variety of other animals, including a hyena which begged for scraps at the White House table, who was later sent to the National Zoo.

Other animals were sent as gifts from abroad.  Unlike the giant pandas sent to the US after Richard Nixon's visit to China in the 1970s, these were sent to the President as an individual, rather than as a gift to the nation.The Sultan of Oman, for instance, sent Martin Van Buren a pair of tiger cubs. A bitter argument broke out between Van Buren and Congress as to whether the tigers belonged to him, and should stay in the White House, or to the nation, and should be placed in a zoo.  Van Buren lost that round (and most other rounds), and the cats were sent to a  zoo.   The Marquis de Lafayette, knowing that his old pal George Washington liked to hunt foxes, sent him some golden pheasants in case the general wanted a change of pace. Those pheasants, incidentally, are now stuffed and on display at Harvard University's Museum of Comparative Zoology.

Among the most famous foreign gifts was the pygmy hippopotamus named Billy, gifted to Calvin Coolidge from the Firestone Plantation in Liberia.  By the time Billy arrived in DC, Silent Cal already had a pretty extensive menagerie, including, at various points, a raccoon, a bobcat, and a wallaby.  Somebody (presumably with the silent blessings of the White House cleaning staff) decided that Billy's acquisition was just way over the red line, and the hippo was sent to the National Zoo.  There, he achieved something that Coolidge never really obtained - a legacy (I mean, seriously, name ONE thing about Calvin Coolidge besides the fact he didn't talk much.  Can you?).  Billy became the most prolific breeder in the zoo, and his genes are still well-represented in the population today.

Other Presidents received gifts from explorers during the exploration of the country.  Thomas Jefferson, another nature-loving polymath, received a prairie dog from the Lewis and Clark Expedition... which was quickly overshadowed when he received a pair of grizzly bears from Zebulon Pike.  For a period of time afterwards, the White House became known as "The President's Bear Garden"... of course, it got burnt down a few years later during the War of 1812, so a lot of things got forgotten, probably.  Jefferson only kept the bears for a few months (on display on the White House lawn) before sending them to a museum in Philadelphia, where one had to be shot after escaping and running amok.  Jefferson also had a mockingbird that he liked to feed by holding food between his lips for the bird to snatch up.

John Quincy Adams, in turn, had an alligator, brought to him by the Marquis de Lafayette, which he kept in one of the White House's bathrooms.  On the other end of the wild and crazy spectrum, Adams also kept silk worms.  Interestingly, this wasn't the only alligator to take up residency in the White House - Herbert Hoover later had a pair, presumably to keep his mind off of the Great Depression.

To learn more about Presidential Pets - the exciting and the mundane - check out the Presidential Pet Museum.  The museum itself is now closed for renovations, but their website offers an encyclopedic view of the history of animals in the White House.  It just goes to show that, at least in the past, the Smithsonian didn't have the only zoo in the nation's capital.

Happy President's Day!

An Unpleasant Reminder

The news this past week has largely centered around the tragedy in Florida, where a gunman attacked his former high school, killing seventeen people.  About half of the resulting coverage has focused on renewed calls for gun control, spearheaded by those who survived the shooting.  The other half has focused on the shooter himself, highlighting all of the warning signs about his behavior, many of which have been gleaned from his social media.

Lost among the many disturbing posts on his instagram have been images of small animals - lizards, toads, birds - that he killed for amusement, sometimes in quite unpleasant ways.

If it's okay with all of you, I won't post the pictures.  You can just take my word for it that they're nasty.

It's worth repeating again and again, but people who engage in cruelty and sadistic behavior towards other animals are increasingly likely to direct that same behavior towards other humans later on.  Cruelty and violence have a tendency to escalate in a person's behavior, rather than fade.  We're seen it again and again in some of history's worst monsters; even Vlad Tepes, the Romanian tyrant known as "The Impaler" who inspired Bram Stoker's Dracula, wiled away his childhood torturing small animals.

In the case of the Florida shooter, even with his instagram posts it would have been easy to slip under a lot of people's radar.  The animals he killed were wild, and so didn't have an owner or guardian to seek justice for them.  They also tended to be animals that not a lot of people cared too much about, so even when people did notice, there wasn't the reaction that there would have been if they had been, say, bunnies or squirrels.  This is part of the reason that I despise events like rattlesnake round-ups.  I feel that they normalize the joyful hatred and killing of other animals in a festive, celebratory manner.

By calling out wanton cruelty against animals, imposing stricter consequences (including, I would hope, banning weapon ownership among those convicted), we may do more than save the lives of non-human animals.  We could potentially be saving the lives of people we care about.

No Such Thing As Bad Publicity?

There is one inherent difficulty in using stories and popular culture to teach visitors about animals.  In much local folklore and culture, the animals themselves are not portrayed too kindly.  Sometimes, the association of an animal's status in culture is a very negative one, which can have significant impact on its conservation status and efforts to preserve it.

Consider the dhole - a pack-hunting Asian wild dog.

Last year, I was speaking with the curator of another zoo, commiserating over the pounds and pounds of paperwork that were needed to transport or import species that could potentially become invasive to our environment.  We were going over the list of species that the Fish and Wildlife Service has listed as potential invasives - anacondas, meerkats, flying foxes... and dhole.  I'd always wondered about that, and I asked him.  What made the government so concerned about dholes getting loose in America and destroying the America?

"I don't know," he replied after a while.  "Someone must have read too much Kipling."

Rudyard Kipling is best known as the author of The Jungle Book, the tales of the man-cub Mowgli and his upbringing in the jungles of India.  The characters of Baloo and Bagheera, Kaa and Shere Khan are well known to many readers.  One of the less-known stories from the work is Red Dog, when Mowgli's adopted wolf family must fight to defend their home from a fierce outside invader.

"The dhole, the dhole of Dekkan - Red Dog, the Killer!  They came north from the south saying the Dekkan was empty and killing out by the way.  When this moon was new there were four to me - my mate and three cubs... At the dawn-wind I found them stiff in the grass - four, Free People, four when this moon was new  Then I sought my Blood-Right and found the dhole."

To the British colonial authorities of India, the dhole was perceived as a vicious killer, one deserving of no compassion and no conservation status.  In fact, it was believed that the best way to conserve wildlife in some areas was to exterminate the dhole - they were seen as beasts that would kill wantonly, destroying all the animals that they could catch and chasing the rest clear out of the region.  A similar prejudice was based across the ocean against the African wild dog.

Compared to most of the large carnivores of Asia - the bears and the big cats - the dhole is largely ignored, with few large-scale plans for its conservation.  There is no international "Save the Dhole" movement, no popular documentaries, no organizations using them as their logos.  I have a hard time coming up with any other explanation for this apathy/indifference other than the dhole's bad press.  Few people have heard of it, and of those who have, fewer still like what they have heard.

Very few American zoos house dholes - I have only seen them once, myself.  I found them to be gorgeous, engaging animals, full of activity, bustling with curiosity.  They are intensely social and devoted to one another - the picture I took above is the one moment I was able to get one off by itself.  It was a meeting that I had long been looking forward to - I had heard of dholes, but had never gotten the chance to observe one before.  It made me said to realize that so few people would get the chance to meet or experience these beautiful animals, all as a result of a chapter in a work of a fiction.

Sporcle Quiz: Literary Lions, and Tigers, and Bears

Literary Lions, Tigers, and Bears

Apex predators just as lions, tigers, and bears have played on out-sized role in our culture, and it certainly shows in our literature.  Can you match the famous lions, tigers, and bears to their descriptions?

Beautiful Buzzards and Literary Lions

Before accepting his current role as Director of the Jacksonville Zoo, Tony Vecchio served as the Director of the Oregon Zoo in Portland, Oregon.  Oregon Zoo has a history of commitment to the conservation of the native wildlife of the Pacific Northwest, and during Mr. Vecchio's tenure, the zoo was preparing to join in efforts to save another iconic native species - the California condor.  And so, as zoo directors are wont to do, Mr. Vecchio got his begging sack and began going door to door.

The thing was, many of the local businessmen and moneybags didn't seem interested.  They heard the facts and the figures and the conservation story of the condor... and no one seemed too inclined to part with cash.  Then, during one of his frequent spiels, Mr. Vecchio ad-libbed a bit.  He mentioned that Lewis and Clark had encountered condors during their exploration of the area.   "Beautiful buzzard of the Columbia," they called it, even capturing one live.  Suddenly, folks were more interested.

Tony Vecchio recounted this story to me - and a room full of other zoo and aquarium professionals - during a workshop he was giving on the power of stories to motivate visitors and change behavior.  It also speaks to the power of animals in our culture and history.

Some zoos have utilized this fascination to help educate visitors about animals.  Many zoos use story-times to attract parents with small children, with an animal-themed story seguing into facts about the real, live animals.  Akron Zoo has an entire major section of its campus designated as Legends Of the Wild, with condors, jaguars, and other animals featured prominently in myth and culture.  William Conway's How to Exhibit a Bullfrog advocated for the inclusion of displays on an animal's role in culture and literature.

Perhaps more zoos could expand upon the concept, forging new partnerships to attract new audiences.  Animal-themed movies at the zoo, with keepers serving as "Mythbusters" (the Jennifer Lopez horror flick Anaconda, for instance, or Jaws at the aquarium.  Harry Potter and owls?).  Reaching out to churches, mosques, or synagogues to hold discussions on "Animals of the Bible/Koran/Torah.  Animal-themed yoga.  Animal-inspired music by orchestras.  Curriculum tie-ins with school literature classes - Life of Pi could be read by students, then incorporate a field trip to the zoo.  The possibilities are nearly endless.

True, few of these things have much to do with the animals themselves.  The anaconda in a 1990's horror movie bears little resemblance to the snake dozing half-submerged in a pool in the reptile house.  As Tony Vecchio discovered with his condors, however, if you can help people make a connection with the animal, no matter how tenuous, you have the foundation to start building a real relationship that may impact the species for the better.

Don't believe me?  Well, Oregon Zoo got its condor facility...

I Grew A Culture In This Place

In Inca mythology, the Andean condor was considered to be the messenger of the Sun.  The Ancient Egyptians mummified crocodiles, baboons, and other animals, preparing them for eternity in the afterlife.  Not content with hawks or falcons, the hunters of the Mongolian steppes took prey the size of wolves using trained golden eagles.  And what American or European schoolchild never heard of the Big Bad Wolf, or Daniel in the lion's den?

When researching a species for the first time, I find the most fascinating aspect to be learning about an animal's cultural history - how it fits into the cultures, economies, art, religion, and history of the people who share its environment.  Some of the stories I have come across have been truly fascinating.  Consider the black-necked stork, the South Asian and Australian equivalent of Africa's saddle-billed stork.  In India, the Mir Shikar people had a ritual for young men seeking to marry.  They had to capture one of these imposing birds - alive.  The task was not without its peril - the custom was finally discontinued in 1920, when one young man was killed by the stork he was attempting to capture.

One of the most interesting things about an animal's cultural history is that is constantly changing.  A few years ago, very few people gave a moment's worth of thought to sloths.  Now, due to their portrayal in pop culture, they are - for reasons I still don't completely understand - some of the most popular of all zoo animals.  One hundred years ago, gorillas were moved in American and European culture as menacing, hulking brutes.  In part due to the increased exposure of humans to gorillas in zoos (especially "hero" gorillas Jambo and Binti Jua) and studies on the apes in the wild, they now enjoy a reputation as gentle vegetarian giants.  The same could be said for orcas - they went from the most feared creatures in the ocean to... Shamu.  It's ironic that the newfound public love for orcas, which started in oceanariums such as SeaWorld, is now causing that species to disappear from marine parks.  

History doesn't have to be ancient to be fascinating.  Any description of the okapi inevitably settles around the fact that the mysterious forest giraffe was unseen by European eyes until as late as the turn of the last century.  Play a game of word-association with anyone and mention the word "Raven", and you're almost sure to get the answer "Nevermore", a reference to the famous poem by Edgar Alan Poe.  Poe lived out his last years in Baltimore, Maryland, which named its football franchise the Baltimore Ravens in tribute.  Not surprisingly, the Maryland Zoo in Baltimore prominently features an exhibit of northern ravens, as well as having some in its animal ambassador program, who serve as mascots for the football team.  Is it a plug for attention?  Perhaps.  But it also serves as a method of tying the animal as a symbol or mascot to the real, living, breathing creature.

Oftentimes, the cultural history of the animal plays a direct role in its conservation.  The history of the sea otter, for example, would never be complete with a description of the fur trade, spearheaded by the Russians, which almost wiped this charming water-weasel from the face of the earth, with dire consequences for the kelp forests where it dwells.  Or, closer to home, how the extermination of the American bison was brought about largely by the US Army's efforts to deprive the Lakota, Comanche, and other Plains Indian tribes of their most important food resource, thereby starving them into submission.

The cultural role of an animal tells us a little about that species... but it tells us a lot about us.  It tells us how people through the world view animals and interact with them.  When properly understood and channeled, it can become another tool in the quest to save animals from extinction.  Many people in countries around the world do not realize that the animals that they share their lands with are unique to those lands.  Developing an appreciation of the fact that they have the only stories about those animals - that their's is the only culture to incorporate them - can provide an adding impetus to protect them.

Species Fact Profile: Fiji Banded Iguana (Brachylophus fasciatus)

Fiji Banded Iguana

Brachylophus fasciatus (Brongniart, 1800)

Range: Southeastern Fiji, (introduced to Vanuatu and Tonga)
Habitat: Rainforest, Cloud Forest, Wetlands
Diet: Leaves, Flowers, Fruits, Insects
Social Grouping:  Males are territorial
Reproduction: Breeding season in November.  Clutch of 3-6 eggs laid in a burrow, hatching after 7-9 months, during the rainy season.  Young independent at birth, though the female may guard the nest site.
Lifespan: 25 Years
Conservation Status: IUCN Endangered, CITES Appendix I

• Body length up to 80 centimeters, two-third of which is made up of tail.  Weigh up to 200 grams.  Size may vary by island
• Emerald green scales.  Males have vertical blue or light green stripes on the body and the tail.  Females are solid green, sometimes with white or pale blue spotting.  Have some ability to change the color of their scales to match their background
• Both sexes have short crests running down the spine.  The Latin name translates to "Banded with a Short Crest"
• When threatened, change their color to a darker shade, near black, and lunge forward with their mouths gaping
• With the two other Fijian iguanas (B. bulabula and B. vitiensis), they are believed to be the descendants of iguanas that rafted across the Pacific from the Americas thousands of years ago.  They are some of the only iguanas found outside of North and South America
• Threatened by habitat loss, as well as predation of both adults and eggs by invasive mongooses and domestic cats.  Fully protected, subject to captive-breeding program
• Historically has been smuggled heavily for the exotic pet trade; the entire population of Fijian iguanas in American zoos is descended from animals smuggled from Fiji
• Considered a national treasure on Fiji, depicted on currency and postage stamps.  Regarded as the totem of some tribes, where the name of the animal may not be spoken aloud.  Other tribes are terrified of them

Rockwell's Lion

There are, as my sagging bookshelves can attest, a lot of books written on the subject of zoos and zookeeping.  There are also a few movies on the subject.  What there are not, however, are many works of art focused on zoos.

Recently, I stumbled across one of the few that I'm aware of, and by one of America's most renowned artists.  Norman Rockwell's Lion and Zookeeper first appeared on the cover of the Saturday Evening Post in January of 1954.  Rockwell went on to create over 300 covers for the Post, many of them iconic to this day.  None of the rest included zookeepers.

Are You Ready For Some Football?

Me?  Oh, no.  Not really.  I manage every year to figure out which two teams are making it to the Super Bowl (Superb Owl?), and pick up just enough factoids to bluff my way out of any football-themed conversation I'll find myself in.  After that, I got nothing.

Every year at about this time, zoos and aquariums attempt to tap into the enthusiasm of the Super Bowl through the assistance of those most reliable of sports pundits, the animals.  This usually is done by offering the animals two treats or enrichment objects, each decked out with the colors or logos of the teams.  The animal then "picks" the winner... though I'm always a bit confused.  If you release a lion into an enclosure with two treats, one "Patriots" one "Eagles", and he devours the "Patriots" one... does that mean he's supposedly voting that the Patriots will win?  Or is he demonstrating that the Patriots will be destroyed?

With so many animals at so many facilities participating, it's not surprising that you get a handful that, based on the sheer numbers and probability, have a track record for getting it right every year.  I prefer to think of it as one of those cases where an infinite number of monkeys eventually produce a script for Hamlet.

So, this year, those zoo animals rooting for the Philadelphia Eagles include Cincinnati Zoo's Fiona the hippo (because believe me, she knows something about beating ridiculous odds), the otters from Elmwood Park Zoo (which, coincidentally, houses the mascot eagle for Philadelphia), and Pinocchio, an Andean bear from the Salisbury Zoo (who just arrived from South America and, presumably, is very confused as to why American "football" players keep cheating and picking up the ball).

Those betting on the New England Patriots include April the giraffe, the lions of the Dallas Zoo, an orangutan from the Hogle Zoo, and Nick the dolphin from Clearwater Marine Aquarium.  Oh, and 95% of the human race.

A saltwater crocodile from the Fort Worth Zoo had his own option set up - two chickens suspended over the water - but the line snapped and both birds fell into the water, where both were promptly eaten.  Don't get too excited about the prospect of a tie.  Salty apparently has an awful track record of picking the winner.

If you're like me, the main attraction of the Super Bowl (besides food) is the commercials.  I'm especially excited this year that last year's biggest celebrity is getting her recognition during one.

Also, what Super Bowl would be complete without a friendly wager or two?  Philadelphia Zoo and Boston's Franklin Park Zoo have made a bet - the zoo of the losing team has to name a goat kid after the quarterback of the winning team.  Careful there - tensions are pretty high this time of year.  I wouldn't be surprised if next month, a jaguar in Philly isn't dining on a kid named "Tom Brady."

It is all about the GOAT: Zoo New England extends challenge to Philadelphia Zoo ahead of Super Bowl LII

The Paper Menagerie

Just about everybody loves the holiday season, whether for purposes nostalgic, familial, or (and let's be honest) material.  For me, one of the best aspects of the season comes about a month or so after the fact.  That's when, having gotten my finances back in order from the shopping, my schedule back in order from the traveling, and my gastrointestinal tract back in order from one month solid of very poor eating decisions, I can set to work on one of my favorite parts of the year.

I plop myself down in front of the computer with my shiny new gift cards - Amazon and Barnes and Noble - and begin buying books.

When I started a blog on the zoo and aquarium world, I knew from the beginning that one feature I had to include was a series of book reviews.  I've always loved books, which shouldn't be surprising - when I was young, before I was able to start volunteering at the local zoo, books were the link I had to the life of the zoo.  I would check out books from the school library and do something productive during class, instead of wasting time on nonsense such as gerunds or pre-algebra.

When I was away at college, hours from the nearest zoo (poor planning on my part, as I look back upon it), books were what I had.  Perhaps the best thing that college had to recommend itself - besides the degree, which I kind of needed to get a job - was the extensive library.  My high school had maybe twenty books on animals in the library.  This place had pretty much its own floor for zoology, ranging from brand new books stuffed with glossy color prints to dusty old tomes written a century ago with barely legible type.  I'd read the books.  Then, I'd find particular facts or anecdotes that intrigued me, and look up the sources in the bibliography.  Then I'd find those books.

Even as an adult, whenever I moved from job to job, the biggest hassle has been boxing up the book collection.  I keep telling myself that I'm going to stop getting more, that they take up too much space... and yet, here I am, spending my day off browsing for cheap bookshelves and wondering where I can fit them.

There are essentially three kinds of animal books that I purchase.  The first, and what I read the most when I was younger, were those written for a popular audience.  Gerald Durrell, Alan Rabinowitz, Jane Goodall - books by them, meant to convey an appreciation for wildlife and the need to conserve it to the general public.    A lot of my collection is taken up by these.  The best thing that ever happened to me, bookwise, was the invention of the Kindle, Nook, and other e-readers.  I can download these books now, taking up a lot less space and letting me take an entire library with me with I travel.

The second are the textbooks, usually devoted to a taxa (storks, turtles, felids) or a subject (hand-rearing, nutrition, reproduction).  These tend to be a lot more expensive, and a lot harder to find.  You certainly don't find them in most bookstores, so the rise of amazon.com was a major game-changer for me.  I don't find the e-reader to be a practical solution for these - with the tables and charts and maps and diagrams, I feel like you need to have the book itself in your hand to make sense of them.  It's always a tricky decision to buy or not, however.  You have to weigh the value of actually having the tome in your hand versus the constantly expanding universe of information on the internet.

Lastly, there are some books which I enjoy mostly for historical purposes.   Some are records of naturalists studying a place for the first time, such as the early explorations of the Amazon, with all of their descriptions of wildlife never before encountered by European scientists.  Others are historical records of zookeeping, such as the very first guidebooks printed to the London and New York (Bronx) Zoos.  Sure, there isn't much of a practical value in some of these books - but they provide me with a link to the past that I find irresistibly fascinating.

A few years back, I started a tradition at my workplace where, on their first Christmas, I'd buy each new keeper an animal book, something I'd select personally for their tastes and interests.  It was sort of an attempt to help them start building their own library.  So far I can't say it's gone over that well - they open the present, look confused, say thanks, and then I see it sit on their desks until they get covered with the miscellaneous paperwork that zookeeping generates.

Still, I hold out hope that one rainy, snowy day when nothing else is going on (not that such days occur often), I'll poke my head out of my office door and catch one of them sitting at their desks, nose buried in a book.  Maybe that would be the first step for them to rediscovering that not all of a zookeeper's adventures are out in the park.

Satire: Democratic Congressman Protests Trump's Environmental Policies By Bringing Endangered Red Wolf To State Of The Union As Guest

Democratic Congressman Protests Trump's Environmental Policies By Bringing Endangered Red Wolf To State Of The Union As Guest